


The Spaces in Between

by Euryale000



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-26 01:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3832720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Euryale000/pseuds/Euryale000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s always a little nauseous the morning after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spaces in Between

He’s always a little nauseous the morning after. 

He figures that, in light of that, it’s probably for the best that deserted storage areas and secluded nooks are few and far between on this ship. Not that the fleet could afford to lock its two best pilots away in the brig for a crime as petty as fornication, times being what they are, but certain appearances must be kept up. 

He was glad it couldn’t be real. Because it wasn’t real and so long as there was no question of romance and lingering sighs and pledges of devotion, that didn’t matter.

He’s not quite sure how he got himself into this situation. Somehow he got pulled over the line and found himself falling into the abyss. Kara. He’s not sure that he would resist her if he could. He wouldn’t. He wants it too much. They both need what they have. In these days of running and fighting and death, death, death, mistrust and suspicion a little human contact can be the thing that keeps you sane. A lot of human contact, if he were to be honest. 

She would pull him back between shelves full of cables and spools of wire and power cells and boxes of broken junk, her hands firm on his shoulders and her breath hot on his face. She could have anything in the world that she wanted from him and he knew it. He was pretty sure she did too. His lips would find her throat, nibble behind her ears to hear her sigh. She would pounce, lips so hard and demanding against his that he would be dizzy, blind, consumed by her passion. His hands would slide up over her back and hers would slide down over his ass. Her breasts fit his hands perfectly. Her hair was short, but long enough for him to catch his fingers in it. 

Sometimes he wouldn’t be so overwhelmed. He would press her up against the wall, hands pinned over her head, and make her play nice. Soft kisses, light bites, no hands, just the lengths of their bodies pressed against each other. She could never take that for long. She would get squirmy, wiggle out of his grasp and drag him down to the floor. Clothes would evaporate in seconds and they would have to muffle their noises in each other’s mouths. One is never very alone on a ship like this. 

Occasionally they would have time to lie together afterwards, fingers trailing over humid skin making them tingle and hum and making their breath quicken rather than calm. Once in a while, in moments like this, he slipped, looking straight into her eyes and telling her she was beautiful. It made her grin and glow a little, which made his stomach flop.

But he always feels ill the morning after. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches her get dressed at her locker, look at herself in the mirror and brush her hair back. He wonders if she actually looked at the picture stuck in the corner of the mirror, or if by this point it is merely another unremarkable feature of the visual landscape, like the Geminon prayer flags that Cat has tacked up on the door of her locker. 

A sunny day, Kara wrapped in Zack’s arms, both grinning like mad fools, and Lee standing off to the side. A crease just right of center makes it clear to him that at one point he had been folded out of the picture. 

He remembers that day. It was not long before the accident. Not long before the wedding was supposed to happen. It was going to be small, just the family and a few close friends. Kara had never been the kind of girl who needed some big fancy ball. It had been raining for a month and this was the third day of sun in a row, making people pretty sure that the rain was done for a while. Their ship was in dock for repairs and so all three of them, as pilots – unnecessary to a grounded ship, had furlough at the same time. They had decided to take advantage of their amazing good luck with the weather. 

Zack had been a good man. He had been so attentive to Kara. They bantered, but always good-naturedly. They shared a sense of humor and a knack for cards. She was the one who taught Lee to play. And they really were in love. They brought out the sap in each other (a challenge indeed!) giving Lee endless opportunity for mockery. He had never been jealous of his brother. He thought that it must be nice to have a relationship like that, but it wasn’t jealousy. Not then. 

But now. Now he can’t help but wonder whose lips it is that she’s kissing, whose hands she feels caressing her skin. Is it Lee she pulls into corridors because of some familiar glint in his eye, some half-remembered quirk to his smile?

He knows they had some mannerisms in common, like the way they pick up a glass of ambrosia. A little flourish to the wrist as if shucking off over-long sleeves before lifting the glass for a toast. Do they smell the same? Do they move the same? Taste the same?

The stony stare that she wears as they step out of whatever hiding place they’ve used nags at him. Of course, certain appearances must be kept up, but is her public mask that good, or is it that she knows what she’s doing and hopes that he doesn’t?

It doesn’t matter. Not really. Because none of this is real. What was true on Caprica no longer applies and what is true as humanity flees for its life through the stars will no longer apply once they find somewhere to stop. And they may all be dead by then anyway. So, it really doesn’t matter.

Nevertheless, he’s always a bit nauseous the morning after.


End file.
